struck by lightning (and now our love's been set ablaze)
by chalantness
Summary: Drabble #11 - Steve/Natasha - She just wants to wash the humidity of Mumbai off and nap until Steve comes home.
1. drabble 1

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,000  
**Prompt:** "Ironically, Natasha can be more protective of their kids than Steve; though, he figures this is because she only has so many things she wants to protect."

**For:** the anon that prompted it – I attempted to answer the prompt and then got carried away. Sorry!

**A/N:** This is the first in my Marvel (mostly Steve/Natasha) drabble collection. I'd had a previous one that I deleted for a reason I honestly can't remember, so here's a second try! The categories and pairings will change if necessary to fit the current drabble.

... ...

Rationally, she knows she has no reason to be upset with Steve. No _fair_ reason, anyway.

But she still is.

She never wanted their kids to get into what she and Steve do, alright? As much as she loves it – and she kind of _does_, to be honest – dodging bullets and using blunt force to knock a person unconscious is not what any sensible parent wants their kids to have to go through at all.

And it's not like Steve disagrees with her on this, but he also made the point that the kids grew up knowing that their dad was Captain America and their mom was Black Widow and their aunts and uncles all fight crime one way or another, so really, is it all that surprising they're so set on following in everyone's footsteps towards world peace? And are they in any real place to tell them they can't? James and Tatiana have been on the inside of global security operations under Stark Industries for years, grew up listening to (seriously modified) stories of everyone in action and seeing everything their parents did in the media. They know the bad stuff, too, now that they're older, but that sure as hell didn't scare them away.

And they're _so talented_, too. That's the hardest part. It all comes naturally to them, the fighting and planning and improvising, and they pick up the skills so quickly.

They'll become better agents than she and Steve ever were, and she's proud of them for that, truly. Because they're not just great at what they do, but they do it for all the right reasons, too. They're compassionate and selfless and have been since they were little. They've always hated seeing other people feel helpless just as much as they've always hated seeing others take advantage of that helplessness. They were never going to settle for doing anything _but_ this with their lives and she's known that. That doesn't mean she likes it.

(And, no, she doesn't care if that doesn't make much sense.)

She's a parent. First and foremost, she's going to worry – _constantly –_ about her kids.

"Natasha…"

She doesn't answer. Steve hates the silent treatment and so does she, honestly, but it's the only real way to get her point across. If she lets herself talk to Steve, it'll only take a few words out of his mouth for her to be significantly less pissed.

So she keeps her back to him and grabs another rinsed apple from the strainer in the sink. Caramel apple slices are Tatiana's favorite snack and Natasha hasn't had to prepare it for her since she was old enough to be trusted with a knife and slice them herself, but Tatiana's lying on the couch nursing a wound she got on what was supposed to be a simple escort detail, so Natasha thinks she can baby her daughter a little. She'll be completely healed in three weeks at most – _thank god_ – and Natasha knows that it could've been worse, but still.

She'd rather her to not have to go through recovery in the first place.

"Natasha," Steve tries again, but then James is walking into the kitchen and asking, "Mom?" and she looks pointedly passed Steve.

"What do you need, babe?"

"Uncle Tony called, asked if it was alright if they came over for a visit," he announces, and the look he's giving them (well, mostly her) tells her that he knows she's still upset. She hates to act like this in front of the kids, but at the same time, she kind of loves that they're not _too _worried about it. They know their parents won't _ever _call it quits.

"Yeah, tell him that's fine and they're welcome to stay for dinner. And if your Aunt Pepper asks what to bring, tell her we could use more apples."

"Alright," he says, looking between them again before walking away.

"Is that such a good idea?" Steve asks. "You know they'll be able to tell that we're fighting."

"We're not fighting." She jams the tip of the knife into the cutting board, finally meeting his eyes, and he looks so _distraught_ that she feels instantly terrible. Because, as worried as she's been, she knows he feels just as awful as her, if not more. She'd been in an entirely different state when it'd happened, but Steve was on that assignment with Tatiana, part of her backup detail, and though they were separated and there was no way for him to have been able to protect her, Natasha knows he blames himself. "I just hate that she got hurt."

"So am I," he reminds.

"I know, but you…" She lets out a breath. "I wanted them to have no part in what we did but you were so adamant in letting them. And this isn't me trying to blame you, but if I had it my way then neither of them would be putting their lives at risk like us."

"You know they wouldn't really be happy, though. They wouldn't feel like they're doing their best or trying hard enough."

"I know," she says. He reaches for her hands and she slips their fingers together, squeezing gently. "I know where you're coming from. I know you went through exactly that when you were trying to enlist, and you don't want James and Tatiana to feel that kind of helplessness. I don't want them to, either. But I hate letting things happen to them."

"Hey," he breathes, pulling her closer. "You're not _letting_ anything happen to them. You just can't protect them from everything, either."

"I have to try. If anything were to happen to you or the kids, I don't—"

"Nothing's going to happen." She draws a breath to protest but he combs his fingers through her hair and adds, "We'll always make our way back to each other. We'll always make our way back to _you_ and you already know that. That's why you're able to let us go in the first place."

She closes her eyes and lets out a laugh, leaning her forehead against his neck. "Why do you always have to be right?"

"I'm not," he replies with a chuckle. "But after all these years, I think I'm finally able to understand my wife."

She knows he's (mostly) joking, but she wraps her arms around his waist and murmurs, "You've always been able to, even when you thought you didn't," against his skin, smiling at the way his chest rumbles in a laugh.


	2. drabble 2

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,600  
**Prompt:** "newly couple sneaking inside the stark tower to make out since nobody knows they're together :)"

**For:** ice326

... ...

It's not that they're hiding this from everyone. They'll get around to telling the others.

It's just nice to have something that's entirely theirs, you know?

Living with everyone else at the Tower means that they share everything and they see each other often, and honestly, Natasha kind of loves it. They don't spend every available hour together, and yeah, there're arguments here or there (or, you know, every day) over little things, but that's a given. They're all such different people so of course there's going to be tension between them at times. But at the end of the day, they'd rather live a few floors away from each other and risk there being an argument than live separately and barely have time to see each other at all. Besides, their schedules are so crazy that if they _didn't_ have the luxury of going up to each other's floors at odd hours then they'd never see each other.

Still, she likes her distance and privacy every now and then, and it's not that she can't have that whenever she wants, but…

As soon as the others know that she and Steve are in a relationship, it'll take a while for them to get any real peace. Their friends are nosy and meddlesome like that.

... ...

After she and Pepper get out of their meeting, Natasha heads up to the common floor first because she's hungry but doesn't know what she's craving, and there're more snack options in the shared pantry than hers and Maria's personal kitchen.

Steve walks in a few minutes after she tears open a bag of M&Ms, and he smiles and slides his hand over her hip as he kisses her temple.

They don't have to be careful about security cameras on the common floor, or any of the private floors, actually. Tony has privacy issues, but even he's not _that_ invasive. And it's not like he doesn't trust them, or ignores the fact that they're all adults and entitled to their own business even if it's under his roof, so it's fine that they do this here.

"Is this new?" he asks, tugging at the hem of her brown, leather skirt. She nods. "I like it."

She arches an eyebrow. "Got a thing for leather?"

He grins. "Got a thing for you," he corrects, and she rolls her eyes but smiles as he slants his lips over hers. It's quick and gentle at first, but then a hand is in her hair, cradling the back of her head as he kisses her a little harder and a little deeper, his other hand curving over her hip.

(Yeah, he definitely has a thing for leather. She already has ideas for that.)

It's very easy for her to get distracted when he's kissing her, especially now that he's gotten better – a lot better – than when she kissed him by surprise on the escalator that first time. And no, she's not the kind of person that feels uncomfortable knowing he's made out with other girls before. The fact that she's his first and only in far more important ways makes up for any ounce of misplaced jealousy she might feel. Besides, she's done a lot more than kiss someone she didn't have any feelings towards, so she's not in a place to talk. Not that Steve would _ever _use that, or anything she did under orders, against her, but still. It can't be easy accepting that she's slept with other men, no matter what the reason.

Anyway.

She ends up sitting on the edge of the counter with her legs wrapped around his hips when JARVIS interrupts with, "If it's of any use, Agents Rogers and Romanoff, you have company coming up the elevator in twenty seconds."

She pushes Steve from her and hops off of the kitchen island in one motion, and Steve blinks as if in a bit of a daze as she straightens her skirt and blouse.

"Hey," Bucky greets as he, Bruce and Sharon walk into the kitchen, and he walks passed Steve and Natasha to pull open the fridge and grab two beers, tossing one to Sharon. "Nice to see you own clothes that aren't black, Nat," he comments with a grin as he gestures at her.

"I love the leather," Sharon says, and in her peripheral, Natasha tries not to smirk when Steve gets this grin on his face.

... ...

They're on his and Sam's floor because Sam has dinner reservations with Jane, Darcy and Clint downtown, and Maria's out of the country with Nick on business all weekend, so they have the place to themselves and have a few hours before anyone comes looking for either of them.

They probably should've been paying closer attention to the time, though.

She's straddling his hips with her hands braced against the couch and her hips gently rocking against his as they're kissing, and honestly, there was never anyone before Steve that could make kissing feel this amazing. He has his hands resting on her thighs and is barely touching her and her blood is already thrumming. She loves the way he kisses her, like he can't get enough but still wants to take his time, and considering everything about her life had been so fast-paced before, it's kind of surprising how much she loves taking it slow.

But then the elevator is chiming and she rolls off of Steve so quickly that it takes another half-second for her vision to focus.

Steve yanks the blanket over their legs and grabs the remote off the coffee table, flipping through channels as Sam walks into the living room, and since her and Steve hanging out is a pretty normal thing, Sam doesn't think twice about seeing her.

"Want some dessert?" he asks them, handing her a container. "But there's only one slice, so Steve will have to share it with you, 'Tasha."

"You mean Steve _is_ sharing it with me," she corrects, popping the lid open, and Steve chuckles as Sam plops onto the couch on her other side and asks what they're watching.

... ...

They're all up at the penthouse for dinner when Steve pulls her into the hallway and out of view from where everyone's in the dining room, kissing her deeply, and she knows that's because he saw the chain of his dog tags around her neck where it was hidden underneath her shirt. She took them from his room the other day and then pulled them on for no real reason when they were in her room earlier today, and as soon as he saw them on her, it's like he _needed_ to kiss her. Well, it ended in a lot more than just a kiss, even if they had to be quiet because they could hear Maria and Darcy cooking in the kitchen, and she honestly forgot she'd still been wearing them after he left and she was getting changed for dinner.

"This isn't some weird possession fetish of yours, is it?" she asks.

He chuckles because he knows she's teasing, but still sounds serious when he says, "Of course not. I just… I really like seeing them on you."

Their friends are literally just in the next room and could walk in on them in any second, but she pulls him in for another kiss because, _god_, he's kind of adorable and sexy at the same time when he's like this.

... ...

Tony and Pepper have everyone up for lunch three days before the Fourth of July, and it's the first time in literally _months_ that all of their schedules lined up to where they all have the day free to spend together, so duh, they're going to take advantage of that.

Also, it's Steve's birthday, so.

Well, technically Steve's birthday _is_ the Fourth of July (and of course there've been plenty of jokes about that) but the city's throwing him this huge party and it's an all weekend thing because it's that big of a celebration, and they'll all be there for him, yes, but it'll obviously be way too crazy for them to spend any quality time together. And no, it's not Steve's style at all, but he's too nice of a guy to tell them he doesn't want the party. So that's why they're celebrating it today the way he wants it: as a simple barbecue with his closest friends.

It's beautiful out, too, and they're all in their swimsuits and lounging in and around Tony and Pepper's rooftop pool.

She's sitting with Sharon, Pepper and Darcy on the steps leading into the shallow end, sitting deep enough that the water comes up to her shoulders. They'd just sit in the hot tub instead if, you know, it wasn't over eighty degrees out and they weren't totally exposed to the sun.

Steve's passing behind them as he's walking from where they have the food set up, and Natasha tips her head back and asks, "Want to share your lemonade, birthday boy?"

He grins and kneels down, handing her the glass. "You're always such a gentleman, huh, gramps?" Darcy teases.

"Well, I wouldn't want her to pass out from dehydration, right?"

"If you really don't want me to pass out, you'd get me a drink of my own and it'd be strawberry lemonade," she replies, and he chuckles, says, "Coming right up," and then leans over to kiss her lips.

And she doesn't think twice about it until she hears someone – most likely Tony – say, "Son of a bitch," and glances around to find everyone staring at them.

Oops?


	3. drabble 3

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,600  
**Prompt:** "Sam & Clint play matchmaker for Natasha&Steve because their best friends are clearly into each other."

**For:** the anon that prompted it

... ...

This wouldn't be the first time Clint's tried to set her up with someone.

It hasn't happened in a while because they've been scattered and preoccupied (biggest understatement of the century, she's sure) and even before, when S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed and they saw each other on a somewhat regular basis, it didn't happen often. That probably has to do with the fact that he's not very good at it.

He knows her well and was decent at finding guys – usually fellow operatives but also the occasional oblivious civilian – that were potentially interesting, but she could tell right away that none of them would be able to handle her in the long run, so none of them ever made the cut. He managed to get her paired on assignments with a few of the guys he'd tried setting her up with, but that's as close to a date as anyone got. If she could tell that none of them were going to work then why go through with it, right? Besides, she knew they'd either breakup or get married, or settle into something just as permanent, and that wasn't for her. It still isn't, she thinks, but a lot has changed and she's not ruling it out anymore.

Not that she thinks it isn't still a longshot, but whatever.

(And there were _a lot_ of jokes about the fact that the guy who wields a bow and arrow is playing matchmaker. Of course there were. How could she pass them up?)

_Lobby. 10 sharp. Wear something pretty._

It's written in Clint's scrawl on a post-it stuck to the fridge door when she walks into the apartment she and Maria share in Stark Tower. She considers just ignoring it, but she's been with Pepper in and out of meetings all day and honestly, she could use the excuse to go out.

She's not making any promises on the date part, though.

... ...

He's not really sure how Sam talked him into this, but it's long overdue that he spends a night out and he knows.

He's _known_ for a while now, actually, and has just been avoiding it.

But it's been almost four years since he got off the ice and he feels a lot more at home than he did before, and that's all he could really ask for. Living in Stark Tower with everyone has probably made all the difference, too. When he'd been in Washington, on his own and just carrying out S.H.I.E.L.D. assignments, things still felt _off_ to him, like he was just getting by but not quite _living_, and he wasn't sure how to fix that. Now he lives with the others and they make plans sometimes, or just drop by each other's floors without much notice and think of something to do. Someone is almost always home or on the common floor, and he likes knowing that he's not totally alone, that he can go to someone whenever he wants.

Even if he's a little reluctant to actually go along with whatever plans are happening, like tonight. It's not that he _doesn't_ want to go out. He's not a hermit or anything.

Bars just aren't really his scene.

Sam convinces him to come, though, and they've been to this place before. It's rather low key and pretty casual, so he doesn't feel underdressed in just corduroy pants and a black button-down with the sleeves pushed past his elbows.

"Tell me again why we aren't just going clubbing," Darcy asks as they're waiting in the lobby.

"Because," Sam says, clapping a hand against Steve's shoulder, "we wanted Captain Conservative here to come along."

Steve smirks a little and shakes his head. "Yeah, make me wait ten more minutes and Captain Conservative is spending another night watching TV on the couch."

"She'll be here," Clint reassures, not looking up as he fixes his cuffs. "I'd say she likes making an entrance, but mostly she just likes to make me wait."

"Who's—"

But the elevator chiming cuts Maria off, and Steve turns to find Natasha walking towards them, her heels clicking against the marble. She looks… Well, she always looks beautiful, and yes, her dress is cut a little lower and falls a little shorter than usual, but it's hardly inappropriate.

Clint gets this smirk on his face and pushes off the wall, heading for the doors, and Natasha falls into step beside Steve as they walk out.

"What?" she asks after a moment, tilting her head up to offer him one of her knowing smiles, because she can probably (definitely) feel his eyes still on her, but he just grins in return and doesn't reply.

He likes seeing her hair in curls again.

... ...

Half an hour in, she's sitting with Steve at the bar and very aware of the fact that they're on a triple date right now. She figured that's what this was when she walked into the lobby and saw who was waiting – because Sam and Maria have had this flirtation since he and Steve moved into the floor above hers and Maria's, and Clint and Darcy have been sleeping together for the last month and either don't care if anyone else knows or are just doing a bad job at hiding it. (It's probably the first. Clint is _much_ better at hiding things than this.)

Right now, Clint and Darcy are on the dance floor and Sam and Maria are huddled together under a heat lamp on the patio.

Yeah, their friends totally did this to them on purpose.

She kicks off her heels, lets them fall to the floor (she saw a pair she wants to replace them with, anyway) and then stretches her legs across his lap, and he just chuckles a little and takes another gulp of his drink. He's had a few, but that's almost nothing to him thanks to the serum.

"So, did anyone in here catch your eye that I can help set you up with?"

"No," he says with a laugh. "I mean, there're a lot of beautiful women in here, but I'm not in the mood tonight."

She raises her eyebrows and he shakes his head like he's caught onto what he said. "You mean there are nights when you _are_ in the mood? Though," she adds, setting her cheek against her hand, "it's only natural, right? I mean, you're a hundred, not dead."

"I'm not a hundred."

"Close enough," she says, waving the detail away. He grins, shaking his head. "Seriously, if you want me to find you a girl, I'll get—"

"Tasha," he interrupts, laughing again, and she just shrugs and takes a gulp of her drink. He's smiling at her. He's also staring at her like… She can't really place it, but he's been doing it all night, ever since he saw her walking off of the elevator – not like he's stealing these glances and looking away when she catches him, and not like he's ogling her, either. He just _looks_ at her as if he can't help it. Almost as if she catches his eye when he's turning to see something else or happens to notice her in his peripheral and he can't help but look at her.

"What about you?" he asks after a moment. "Are there any guys worth talking to?"

She tilts her head. "Would you be my wingman if there were?"

He pauses for a moment, admits, "Probably not," with a bit of a laugh before taking another gulp, and she smiles because that's the answer she was looking for.

... ...

When she comes back from using the bathroom, she sits herself across his lap and plants a (pretty hot) kiss on him, and all night he's been thinking about how he kind of loves her hair when it's curled like this, so his first reaction is to comb his fingers through it and return the kiss.

He kind of loves kissing her.

She lets out this very, very faint noise from the back of her throat as his fingertips massage her scalp, and he sets a hand on her hip to steady her and cradles the back of her head with his other hand as their lips pause, but neither of them dare move, like they're figuring out what they want to do next. He kind of figured she must just be putting on a show for some guy who attempted to pick her up, because after turning five or six of them down within ten minutes, she started to play it off like he was her boyfriend to keep them away – a kiss every now and then, her fingers trailing up his thigh or combing through his hair, tilting her head so that he'd kiss her neck. It worked, for the most part, though guys still tried.

(There are a lot of disrespectful assholes in the world, or at least in this bar.)

"You're really good at this," she murmurs against his lips, and, alright, he feels a little too proud at how breathless and flushed she is.

"Should I be offended at how surprised you sound?"

"I'm not surprised," she insists, and then braces a hand against the bar behind her for balance as she shifts to straddle his hips. "Kiss me like you mean it, Rogers."

"I always mean it, Romanoff," he breathes, and he's not even sure if that makes any sense, but she must understand him, anyway, because grips onto the front of his shirt and brings their lips together again.

... ...

Sam gives them this knowing smirk the next morning, when Steve is walking her out so that she can get ready for her meeting with Pepper, and she just gives a (light) punch to his abs and says, "You know what that was for," before kissing Steve and stepping onto the elevator.

Maria hands her a mug of coffee when she walks through their door, and there's another post-it stuck to the side with Clint's scrawl.

_You're welcome. And you owe us._

She just laughs. It's going to be a while before they let this go.


	4. drabble 4

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,100  
**Prompt:** gif (see on AO3 version)

... ...

Tony finds her in London.

He says he just met up with Nick to catch up on a few things (which is probably one hell of an understatement, because Nick doesn't do casual conversation) and she doesn't doubt the man pointed Tony in her direction. He ignores her when she asks what he and Nick are up to, and though she has a pretty good idea, she wants to see if he'll talk. He doesn't, of course, but he takes her to a private lunch and tells her that Pepper's missed her and wants her to come home, which is as close as he'll get to admitting that _he's_ missed her, too.

"Pepper's not the only one," he adds, dropping something onto the table by her tea. A business card for Stark Industries with a number scrawled out underneath the print. "Cap's been asking around about you. It's kind of annoying, really."

"Yeah?" she asks, picking up the card.

"He's insistent." Tony leans back in his chair, a knowing look on his face. "Did something happen between you two?"

She smirks, amused. "I bet you'd love to know, wouldn't you, Stark?"

"Not really," he replies. She laughs because she knows he's lying. "But you should probably give the guy a call to let him know you're alive and everything before he sends out a search party for you and drags you back against your will. Unless, of course," he adds, tilting his glass towards her, "you actually _do_ want to come back."

She raises her eyebrows. "If this is your roundabout way of saying something else, just spit it out, Tony. You're not good at subtle."

He narrows his eyes at her (playfully) and sighs, signaling for one of the waiters to come over.

The guy clears the plates the in front of her to set down a folder onto the table, and she glances at Tony. "Before you start thinking you're special," he starts as she flips it open and begins thumbing through the papers. "This is basically the exact same thing I already offered everyone else. You'll just be the last one that actually takes me up on it. What all that means is that you'll be able to live and work at Stark Industries and you'll be under the protection of my lawyers the second you come home, so no one will be able to get near you."

She lets out a breath, admittedly impressed. "How did you manage that?"

"My lawyers are a force to be reckoned with. Ask Maria." Natasha feels herself smile. Yeah, she recalls the girl telling her that. "It's yours if you want it."

"This is actually… pretty great, Tony."

He lets out a laugh. "Well, I _am_ capable of doing something nice for a friend every now and then. You can thank Pepper for that." Natasha just grins. "But do me a favor, because I'm such a great friend, and give Steve a call either way. It's literally a pain to hear him ask about you so often."

"He really bothers you about me that much?"

"It's not just me he bothers," Tony says, and the tilt of his head tells Natasha that he knows she knows what that's supposed to mean.

... ...

He's standing with Sam and Clint outside the Stark Tower when she calls him from the payphone across the street, watching his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he doesn't recognize the number. Sam and Clint lean over to read it, both shrugging, before Steve finally answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey, soldier," she greets, and, alright, she kind of loves that he recognizes her voice immediate, even after not hearing it for months.

"Natasha?" He lets out a breath, and even if she couldn't see his expression from across the street, she can still hear the relief pretty clearly over the line. She sees Sam raise his eyebrows in surprise, looking to Clint, who has that knowing smirk of his as he shrugs his shoulders. She presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. Oh, of course Clint has already seen her. She should've caught onto that sooner, but she's been a little out of practice the last few months, so she thinks she can let that go this one time. "How did you get my—"

"How'd I get your number? Tony gave it to me. Apparently you've been bugging everyone to try and get a hold of me." Steve laughs a little and she grins in return, gnawing on her lower lip. Gosh, she's missed his laugh. "What's the matter, soldier? You miss me?"

"I'm not much of a soldier anymore." She tilts her head. Yeah, she supposes that's true. "And of course I've missed you."

That makes her smile.

"You always did know how to charm a girl, didn't you? Well," she adds, "the blue eyed-blonde thing you've got going on probably does half the work. Nice hair, by the way."

She grins as she sees him pause, catching onto her words, and he looks around, scanning the crowds. Sam gives him a look that Steve ignores, but then Clint nudges his arm and nods in her direction, and Sam's and Steve's eyes fall on her at the same time. She lifts her hand, waving her fingers, and Steve gets this _smile_ on his face as Sam laughs. He hangs up the call, keeps their eyes locked as she drops his phone into his pocket and jogs across the street to her, and she sets the payphone down and steps out of the booth as he makes his way over to her, Sam and Clint watching them from where they're still standing. It's stupid, really, but she thinks he looks even better than she remembers in his civvies.

It's ridiculous how much she's missed him.

"Where have you been?" he asks, glancing over her as if he's still not entirely sure if she's really here.

"I've just been here and there, doing this and that." He laughs, shaking his head. "They're pretty boring stories, to be honest."

"Yeah, I'll bet." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. "How long are you in town for?"

His voice is even, casual, but she can tell that he's… anxious, almost, waiting for her answer. "Well, I guess that depends on how long Maria wants me as a roommate," she says, smiling as the realization cross his features. "And if I've been told correctly, that means we'll be neighbors."

He lets out another laugh, and okay, she's kind of in love with the sound. "Well, can I take my new neighbor out for a cup of coffee?"

"Isn't it a bit late for breakfast?"

"Better late than never, right?" he asks, and she smiles because she knows he's talking about more than just coffee.


	5. drabble 5

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Prompt:** gif (see on AO3 version)

... ...

She's not actually on maternity leave, especially since she's passed the typical three months. She just doesn't take as many assignments anymore unless she's absolutely needed (same goes with Steve) and sometimes Maria takes her place as Pepper's assistant when Natasha can't.

The perks of being best friends with the boss, you know?

Like yesterday, when Maria went to a meeting across the city with Pepper because James has had a cold for the past two days and Natasha didn't want to leave Steve with a one year old and a sick three year old. Not because she didn't think he could handle it on his own, but she'd rather him not have to if she can help it. And James isn't really sick anymore, just has a runny nose, so that just means he has more energy to expend and they have to keep their eyes on both him and Tatiana at all times. At least when they're together, they can trade off and it won't be that much of a hassle when they need to prep their meals. Plus, they get to spend more time as a family and they've always made a great team, you know?

Steve is up before her, leaning back against his pillows as he's sketching, which is nothing new. He's almost always up before her.

(What? She loves sleeping in.)

"That better not be me that you're drawing, Rogers," she mumbles, though she's just teasing and he chuckles because he knows this. She yawns, stretching her entire body out and then sitting herself up against the pillows. "How long do you think we have?"

"Not long," he admits. Yeah, he's probably right. The clock reads 6:30 and James is usually getting out of bed around now, with Tatiana waking up shortly after.

Of course her kids would be early risers like their dad.

So she just leans her head against Steve's shoulder and closes her eyes again, listening to Steve's pencil scraping against the pad as he continues sketching. It's something she's come to love since before they had James and Tatiana, before they got together, even, because they would share motel rooms after finishing assignments and she would find him awake and sketching. He can't do it as often anymore because now most of their time is spent chasing after the kids, but he still has these early mornings to do so and she's glad.

A few minutes later, however, they hear the soft footsteps of James getting out of bed.

Steve grins, kisses her hair and whispers, "Three… two…"

"Good morning!" James exclaims, bursting through their bedroom door, which they keep halfway open, anyway, for exactly this purpose. The kid runs around the bed and grabs onto Steve's outstretched hands, letting his dad pull him up and toss him onto the bed between them, making him laugh like crazy.

"Calm down a little, James," Steve scolds gently. "You're going to wake your sister."

He gives him a funny look. "But she's already awake," he says, like his daddy is so silly for now knowing this.

Natasha just grins. Steve lets out a laugh, setting his sketchpad and pencil aside. "Well, then I'll be right back," he says, ruffling James's hair, then slipping into his slippers and heading out the bedroom to Tatiana's nursery.

"Come here," Natasha says, pulling James up and giving him a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which makes him start laughing again, twisting out of her grasp. She gasps, pretending to be hurt by this, but then James smiles and launches himself into her arms, half-knocking the wind out of her in doing so. "Mommy kind of needs to breathe, kiddo," she laughs.

James shifts until he's sitting more comfortably beside her, tucked under her arm, and she kisses his hair like she always does.

"What was Daddy drawing?" he asks, tugging the duvet to bring the sketchpad closer because it's clearly too far for him to reach unless he crawls over there. She can't tell if this makes him a clever kid or a lazy one, or both, but whatever.

"I don't know," Natasha admits.

James sets the sketchpad in his lap and flips it open. Steve has never had any real qualms with people seeing his sketches, especially not his own kids.

"Look, it's us!" he exclaims.

And yeah, it definitely is them. It's a rough sketch, but it's pretty clear that it's supposed to be her playing with James and Tatiana on the floor, probably of their den where the kids usually play. James turns the page, onto a sketch of him and Tatiana, then another of the three of them, and then one of just her and James and one of just her and Tatiana. Natasha isn't surprised in the slightest, not even as the next sketches are of just her. He's been drawing her for a few years now, obviously even before the kids were born, and she's always where his mind wanders. There are a lot of sketches of her just smiling, drawn at different angles, but it's the last sketch – the one he started this morning – that makes her pause.

"You're even prettier here, Mommy," James says, lifting the sketchpad a little higher.

It's a sketch of her in her wedding dress, her hair up in a braided crown and a canopy of flowers draping around her like the one they'd had for the reception. _She_ hasn't even seen her wedding dress in a while, or looked at photos recently, but somehow she knows the details are perfect.

"Did you really wear this, Mommy?" James asks.

"Sure did, kiddo," she tells him. "This was my wedding dress, from the day your Daddy and I got married. You were almost one."

He tilts his head back to look up at her, eyes wide and sparkling. She can tell he wants to ask something, but then they hear Steve's voice and look to see him walking through the door, holding Tatiana with one arm as he holds open a cookbook with the other, reading the ingredients out loud to her. It's cute, the way her eyes are wide and totally focused on whatever's on the page, like she's actually paying very close attention to whatever Steve's telling her, and Steve meets Natasha's eyes and grins like he knows what she's thinking.

"I was just reading to Tatiana how to make today's breakfast," he tells them, and as soon as Tatiana sees her mother, she squeals and reaches for her. Natasha takes her from Steve, peppering her cheek with kisses and making her giggle like crazy. "Want to help me make some crepes for breakfast, buddy?" Steve asks James, ruffling his hair again.

"Yeah!" he exclaims, springing onto his feet and making the mattress jump. Tatiana claps her hands, trying to bounce in Natasha's arms.

Steve moves to help James off the bed, but then Natasha says, "Wait," and he looks at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly. She sets a hand against his cheek and brings their lips together, and Tatiana babbles between them, shifting. "I love you," she says once they part.

"I love you, too," he says, voice a little gruff. Natasha suppresses a smirk.

Then James motions for Steve to come closer, leans over to whisper in his ear, even though it's still loud enough for both of them to hear him as he says, "Mommy really loves your picture of her."

"My…" His eyes catch his open sketchpad still on the bed, and he gives her this smile. "It hardly compares to the real thing."

"Well, you can have a proper, thorough look later," she says, voice nonchalant, though her smile only grows when she sees his eyes widen slightly, catching her meaning.

"Did you mean your wedding dress?" James asks, confused.

"Yeah, buddy, that's what she meant," Steve answers for her, and Natasha lets out a laugh.


	6. drabble 6

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,200  
**Prompts:** (765): If u ever apologize to me for "too rough" sex again I will suspend ur all-access pass to my vagina indefinitely

**A/N:** Also based off of Tony saying, "Is there anything real about you?" to Natasha in _Iron Man 2_. And I… don't really know what this is. Sorry?

... ...

There's a bruise on her side that hurts like hell whenever she twists her torso too far in either direction, and yeah, there's definitely a bit of a bump on her head from how hard it hit the wall, but honestly, this is kind of the best she's ever felt being a little battered and bruised.

Steve sees it a different way.

It's no secret she can take a little pain, alright? She's not some masochist that _likes_ it or anything, but whatever. She's good at not minding it, and she's gotten hurt for way worse reasons than having crazy good sex with her boyfriend, so she thinks she can overlook a bruise or two if they happen to be too wrapped up in what they're doing to pay attention to furniture or anything. And it's not like she doesn't understand why he freaks out a little every time, or that she doesn't find it as sweet as it is exasperating. He hates when she gets hurt at all, let alone if he's partly to blame for it, and no, it's not because he thinks he needs to be taking care of her. She wouldn't be with him if he felt she needed looking after.

He just likes taking care of her and is really, really good at it, and she's not about to complain whenever he insists on doing so.

But apologizing for getting a little rough during sex?

Yeah, that she _will _complain about.

Honestly, leave it Steve to make her feel any ounce of guilt over something like this. So what if he gets a little carried away and isn't totally on top of his super strength whenever they're doing it? She's not holding it against him. Actually, she's _trying_ to get him to be a little wild, get things out of system. That's kind of the whole point.

Steve won't even really look at her as they're having brunch with Pepper and Tony in the penthouse and it's starting to piss her off.

"Are you alright, Natasha?" Pepper asks when reaches over for the pitcher and winces as the movement stretches her bruise. Steve picks it up, pressing his lips together as he tops off her lemonade, and Natasha resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm fine," she promises, looking pointedly at Steve, and he gives her this unconvinced expression.

Seriously, she _will_ slap him pretty soon.

"Are you sure? Because you're looking a little worse for wear," Pepper admits. "Did you maybe overdo it at the gym or something?"

"Oh, it was probably a much more pleasurable activity closer to home than that."

Tony gives her that proud little smile as he takes a bite off of a strip of bacon, looking very much like a little kid that got caught red-handed and likes it, and Natasha isn't sure if she's annoyed or amused. She's honestly leaning a little more towards being amused, because seriously, at least _someone_ other than her isn't seeing the bruises as such a bad thing for this situation. Pepper looks between them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but then she meets Tony's eyes and he raises his eyebrows expectantly and this seems to make it click.

"Oh. _Oh_, you're like that from… right." She lets out a laugh, and Tony kisses her hair then takes another bite of bacon. "Well, never mind. Clearly you're fine."

"Yup," she agrees, meeting Steve's eyes. "Clearly I'm fine."

"I bruised you _again_, Natasha," he reminds. Tony coughs, loudly. "Maybe you don't mind, but I do."

"Why?" Honestly, she wants to know. "If this is because I'm getting hurt, need I remind you that it's in the middle of us having sex? Because I think every part of me is a little distracted with other things while that's happening."

"Jesus," Tony mutters. Pepper presses her lips together, trying not to laugh.

Steve blinks at her, as if a little surprised by her words. "No, it's not…" He lets out a breath, actually grinning, and it's stupid that's all that needs to happen for her to be less pissed at him. This whole thing is a little stupid, really. "If I thought it was because I was hurting you and you didn't like it, you know I'd stop."

"_And_ there goes my appetite," Tony sighs, his fork clattering against the island counter as he tosses it dramatically.

He gets ignored.

"I know how you are about your body," Steve says, setting a hand over her knee and squeezing it lightly. "You're a hell of a lot more confident about all of your scars now, but I know it still bothers you sometimes and I don't like having any part in that."

She blinks slowly, not saying anything at first. She… really hadn't been expecting that.

"That's what this has been about?"

He nods a little, lifting the hand off of her knee to push his fingers through her hair, and she lets out a breath.

"You're beautiful." He says this simply, easily, like it should be obvious, but also like he just really wants to say it. That actually seems right. He compliments her all the time, not just on her looks but on everything, not as if these parts of her surprises him or anything, but like he's just making sure she still hears it. "I know looks aren't everything. You're so much more than just a beautiful face, you know? But…" He shrugs a little, smiling a little wider. "I just don't want you to have a chance to doubt it, or have any reasons to think you aren't."

She's not crying, but her eyelashes dot with tears when she blinks a few times and she laughs when Pepper whispers, "_Whoa_."

"Come here," Natasha mutters, and Steve chuckles as she pulls him in for a kiss.

"Okay, yeah, wow," Tony says after a moment. "I'm happy for you two, I really am, but _that_"—he gestures at them, even though they've obviously stopped kissing by now—"is as far as you two are going to get while you're up here, alright?"

"Why? It's not like we haven't already gotten to your guest bathroom," Natasha says, grinning as Tony pretends to throw up.

"Alright, I love you both, but the confessions stop there, okay?" Pepper interrupts. "Now, who wants apple pie?"

"I'll help you with the dishes," Steve offers.

He presses a kiss to Natasha's temple, just because he wants to, and she smiles and watches as he helps Pepper gather everyone's plates and utensils and then follows her to the sink. She takes a sip of her lemonade, but Tony's sort of just _looking_ at her and she knows he wants to say something, so she says, "Just spit it out, Tony."

"Spit what out? I don't have…" She raises her eyebrows and he makes a face. "Alright, yeah, I have a little bit of a comment."

"So comment."

He shrugs a little, crumpling his napkin before tossing it on the kitchen island, probably just for the sake of doing something for a second instead of talking. "I just wanted to say that you two seem happy." She blinks, surprised, and he meets her eyes. "I'm happy about that."

"You wanted to say that you're happy that we're happy?"

"Yeah," he admits, giving her this soft smile. "You two… I can tell that it's real, you know? And I want that for you. You deserve it." Making a face, he adds, "Despite everything I do or say suggesting the contrary."

She laughs a little, but then she says, "He's the most real thing I've ever felt," and Tony smiles like he knows exactly what she means.


	7. drabble 7

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** NC-17ish?  
**Word Count:** ~1,400  
**Prompts:** "(303): we fucked the fort apart but we'll rebuild it after we get some drinks."

... ...

Babysitting is… well, she kind of totally loves it, and it surprises the hell of her every time, but whatever. Maybe she loves it as much as she does because Nikki is such a sweetheart and Natasha will take any chance she gets at some quality time with her. Which is pretty often, since Pepper and Tony are always being invited to some charity or benefit thing, and because they want to keep Nikki as far away from "all the public crap" (Tony's words, obviously) for as long they can, they'd rather her stay at the penthouse with Natasha and Steve.

That's the other thing she loves about babysitting—watching Steve with Nikki.

The girl adores him, obviously, and it's no surprise at all that he's awesome with her. He makes her giggle like crazy and sings whatever she asks him to and always finds new recipes for snacks or desserts that she can help him with in the kitchen.

Tonight their project was sugar cookies, and Steve brought up food coloring and royal icing and the two of them rummaged through the sweets in the pantry so they had plenty of toppings to decorate with. Pepper is probably _not_ going to appreciate them stuffing her daughter with sugar before dinner, but whatever. The girl isn't a particularly picky eater and won't even pout or anything if her parents tell her that she's reached her sugar limit for the day, or just don't want her eating junk at the moment, so Natasha thinks the girl can indulge a little for tonight. Plus, it's totally adorable to watch her sort of eying Steve when she reaches for a marshmallow or M&M and then light up when Steve tells her to go for it.

Nikki iced a cookie for every one of her aunts and uncles, and her parents, of course, and then one for "Grandpa Nick" (definitely Tony's doing, because she used to just call him Nick at first, and the fact that Nick lets her get away with this is one of the greatest things Natasha's ever heard).

Natasha's taking a bite out of one of her trial cookies—because the girl is as neurotic as both of her parents and _did not_ want to give anyone a cookie she felt she messed up on—when Steve walks back into the living room. He gets this grin on his face when he sees her, because she's still sitting underneath the blanket fort Nikki wanted them to make.

(Yeah, Pepper will _definitely_ not appreciate this, either.)

"Well, she's definitely out," he announces, ducking under a blanket to sit beside her.

"She fell asleep?" It's only nine, and Pepper and Tony usually stay up with her later than this, so it's weird that she'd crash already.

"Yeah, I found her passed out in the middle of her room, so I moved her to her bed and turned off the light." He grins again, reaching over to brush the crumbs off of the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "You're making a mess."

"Bigger than the mess we already made?" He chuckles and she stuffs the rest of the cookie in her mouth, licks her lips after she's swallowed. "Pepper's going to kill us."

"That's a _bit_ of an exaggeration, but…" He glances around. "Yeah, we should probably start cleaning up."

"Later," she says, lying herself on her back. He raises his eyebrows. "What? Nikki might wake up again, and she'll be upset that we cleaned up her fort, and then we'll probably have to rebuild it, anyway. We'll just do what we always do and start cleaning up when Tony texts us that they're on their way home."

"You just want to keep the fort up for yourself."

"Shut up."

He laughs and moves to lie beside her, propped up on his elbow. "I think it's cute," he says, probably only half teasing. She glares at him, but he just grins because he knows she doesn't mean it. It's quiet for a few moments, but it's nice, too, because they've kind of been going non-stop all night because of Nikki, and she was pretty sure they'd be at it for another hour or two until Tony and Pepper got home. He smiles, reaching up to brush her hair back. "I hope you know how amazing you are with Nikki," he says. "She loves you."

She lets out a laugh. "Trust me, she loves you more. You're better at playing with her than I am."

"You're really good at it," he insists, his settling over her hip, because it kind of just always ends up there and she loves it. "She loves being with you, and she's always trying to be like you, too. She told me she wants red hair to be more like you and Pepper."

"Liar," she says, except it comes out in this sort of whisper, because _shit_, that's actually really adorable.

And she _has_ noticed Nikki trying to copy her, sometimes. Tony's probably _thrilled_ about that.

"You're great with kids," Steve goes on, smoothing his thumb over the skin above the waistband of her yoga pants. "You're going to be a great mother someday."

"Who said I'm going to be mother?"

He chuckles, shaking his head, and she loves that they can tease each other about things like this. They've talked about moving into a place of their own, getting married and having kids and the future before, and no, they're not in any rush to get any of that done _right now_, but she honestly thinks she'd feel ready if they happened, anyway. Mostly, she just loves that she has the chance to have these things for herself, to build this life for herself when it hadn't even been an option before, and the fact that she gets to share this with Steve?

It's kind of crazy, really, when she stops to think about it.

She pulls him closer and presses their lips together, and he squeezes her hip a little, kissing her back. They're gentle at first, lazy and content, but his fingers are tracing idly over her hip, digging into her skin with just enough pressure that it kind of drives her crazy, and she can feel him as she shifts beneath him, brushing against where he's hard for her.

"Steve," she murmurs against his lips, kissing him a little harder, a little dirtier, and he makes this noise from the back of his throat.

Her hand comes between them, grasping at his belt, and he mutters, "Wait, 'Tasha." Her hand brushes over the front of his jeans and he pulls away. "Nikki might—"

"She's asleep," she reminds, even though _she_ was the one that'd said she could wake up, but whatever. They'll be careful to listen for her, and really, it's not like this is the first time they've fucked with someone else in the other room. She hooks a leg around his hips, pressing him closer. "But if it really bothers you that much, I can take care of myself."

"_No_," he says lowly, eyes dark, and she actually bites her lower lip a little to keep from smiling too widely as she pops the front of his jeans undone.

He nearly _growls_ when she grasps him, then lets out this throaty laugh when she leans up and whispers, "_Hush_," into his ear, shifting his hips against her hand. _God_, Tony and Pepper may actually kill them if they find out they had sex with their daughter just down the hallway.

Steve's head falls to her shoulder and he murmurs, "Natasha," with his breath warm against her neck.

"I need you to be inside me, okay?"

"Yeah," he breathes, and she tugs a blanket over them as he pushes her yoga pants and panties down her legs, she really _does_ care about the possibility of Nikki walking in on them. She bites her lower lip, trying to be quiet, but then Steve sinks into her and she lets out this pretty loud moan that has Steve kissing her to stifle her. "_Hush_," he whispers into her ear, and she lets out a soft laugh at first, until he angles his hips and brushes against a spot that has her arching her back, tugging at a blanket and sending a wall of their fort down.

Damn. They'll have to fix that before Nikki wakes up.


	8. drabble 8

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~2,200  
**Prompt:** "AU: Steve's the boss and Nat's his secretary. In the office, obvious UST for them."

**For:** ice326

... ...

"You know, if you asked out Kristin from Statistics, she'd probably say yes."

Steve lets out a chuckle, leaning back in his chair as Natasha tilts her head at him, smiling. She looks so comfortable perched on the corner of his desk whenever they have lunch like this, like this is _her_ office rather than his. It might as well be. She's in here almost as much as he is, and she has a key, so even if he wanted to lock the door she could still come and go whenever she pleased. Not that he minds any of this, though. She's his secretary, yeah, and it's important that they stay connected, but he mostly just enjoys her company, too. She's pretty hilarious and refreshing to be around, and has this teasing personality, and sometimes he really can't tell if she's flirting with him or not, but that's kind of their thing now.

Another one of their things is that Natasha tries to get him to ask out every decent woman in the building.

"Natasha," he laughs.

"What? It doesn't hurt to try, right?" She crosses one leg over the other, and _nope_, he _so_ does not look where her skirt rides up her thigh a little.

(Except, you know, he totally does. She's his employee and a good friend, and he'd _never_ objectify her, but… he's only human.)

"You know I have no time," he reminds. "I'm too busy."

"Yeah, and _you_ know I'm the one that basically controls your schedule." She twirls her yogurt spoon at him for emphasis. "Say the word, Captain, and I can squeeze in a date night."

He chuckles at the nickname. (He can't even remember how it started, but now it's just something people around the office tend to call him, and she'll always get that proud little smirk on her face whenever it happens.) "I appreciate your concern, but…" He shrugs his shoulders.

"You are endlessly frustrating." She leans over to meet his eyes and he stares right back at her rather than down the dip of her blouse. "I hope you know that."

Oh, he does.

... ...

"Steve," Natasha says, and he raises his eyebrows as she walks – _struts_ – into his office.

"You're in a good mood," he notes, curious.

"I am, because I have good news for you." She sits herself on the edge of his desk and he leans back in his chair to let her know that she has his attention. "Remember how I've been trying to set Pepper and Tony up basically ever since I was hired?" He laughs and nods. Yeah, those two have been the topic of at least half of their lunchtime conversations. Natasha likes to claim that she isn't much of a gossip, but she is, at least when it comes to her close friends. "Well, they finally went out for drinks and then went home together."

"They went…" He's rather impressed, actually. Those two are always bickering, though, so really, it's not that big of a surprise. "How is that good news for me, exactly?"

"Well, I was right about them the same way I was right about Bruce and Betty, and Clint and Bobbi, so my intuition with this stuff is pretty spot on." She smiles at him and, yeah, he catches on to where this is headed. "Let me set you up on a date."

"Natasha," he says.

"That cute girl from Accounting seems really into you," she goes on, as if she hadn't heard him. "You know, the one with the lip piercing—Laura? Lucy?"

"Lilian," he corrects, and she snaps her fingers, nodding. "Yeah, I'm not really ready for that just yet. And I'm not sure why this is so important to you," he admits, raising one eyebrow. She tilts her head. "I mean, it's not like you have a thriving social life yourself."

"That's because my boss is always busting my ass." He chuckles. "But it's not so bad. At least he's good company, right?"

"I'll bet he really enjoys your company, too."

"He better," she replies, and he smiles and glances away.

... ...

It's not unusual that they're one of the last ones out of the building. On average, they spend twelve, maybe thirteen hours here a day, fourteen or fifteen on particular grueling days where they've fallen behind or have so much on their plate that there's no easier way to space things out and tackle them accordingly. It's not just the two of them that put in these long hours, either. It's his whole team – sometimes the entire top floor – that puts in the extra hours of work, and to hell if you think he doesn't appreciate every one of them for it.

It's already a quarter passed 10:00, and they'll be leaving soon, now that they've finalized the new outline for this presentation that's supposed to be ready in two days. It was a lot to ask of everyone, but they pulled through and they know it'll be worth it now that everything flows.

He's in his office retyping his notes when Natasha lets herself in. "Hi," he greets, not looking up. He doesn't mean to be rude, he's just focused.

"Why are you still working?"

He chuckles. "I'm almost done. You don't have to wait for me."

"Yes I do, because you're driving me home. I'm not getting on the subway like this," she informs, and that grabs his attention. He looks up, and then regrets doing so as he sees that her white blouse is soaked through with coffee and she's currently working the buttons of it undone. He catches a flash of skin and then spins his chair away.

_Shit._

"Sorry, but your office is the only one that doesn't have glass walls, and it's a lot closer than the bathroom, so…" She sounds apologetic enough, but he _knows_ her, and he can hear this teasing undertone in her voice.

"Right," he says, mostly to himself. "Did you need to borrow a shirt or something? Or run to get one?"

"Well, I only need to be here until you're finished, so if you want to hurry things up…"

"Right," he says again. _God_, he sounds like an doesn't move right away, either, and that makes him feel even more like an idiot.

He needs to do _something_.

"Here, at least…" He turns around, tugging open one of the bottom desk drawers and pulling out a folded dress shirt. Yeah, he keeps a spare change of clothes. Not because he actually thinks he'll need them, but Natasha's kind of gotten him in the habit of being prepared. She sort of stashes things around his car and his office and his desk and it's just something he finds himself doing, too. He pulls open another drawer and pulls out a travel packet of wet wipes. "Until you can get home and shower," he says a little needlessly.

"What would I do without you?" Her voice is teasing, but the smile on her face lets him know that she's being genuine, too.

He smiles in return. The feeling is pretty damn mutual, actually.

... ...

Sharon from the IT department is upstairs installing the new routers when she asks him out for coffee.

He's not even sure if it's in _that_ way, because the entire thing is taking longer than he was told it would and everyone was only working off of the network from their phones, and she could tell he was trying not to be frustrated. The fact that Natasha was sitting in on a meeting for him across the city wasn't helping, either. It's not even because he can'tfunction without her (even though, yes, times like this just reiterate how amazing an assistant she is). There's just something about being around her that's really calming. He just feels more relaxed with her, you know? And it's not that he isn't appreciative of Sharon's efforts, but he's not the kind of person that will forget about work for a bit even if he's out of the office.

The fact that hearing the word _coffee_ makes him think of Natasha in his dress shirt, curled up in his passenger seat and teasing him about the fact that almost all of his radio presets are oldies stations, probably means something, too.

Not that he tells all of this Sharon this when he politely declines her offer, but still.

... ...

"You, my friend, are an _idiot_."

Steve lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Surprisingly enough, I can't say that I disagree this time."

Sam raises his eyebrows, turning to Bucky, who shrugs. "Doesn't matter how much he's changed since we were kids—still doesn't know how to deal with women," he says. Steve gives him a look and Bucky raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You _don't_," he insists, and okay, as much as Steve does enjoy having lunch out of the office with Bucky and Sam like this every once in a while, he's missing Natasha's company right now. That's kind of the whole point of this conversation. It's just _different_ when it's her pushing, you know?

"Look," Sam says, hitting Steve's shoulder. "Sharon is the first girl in how long to actually ask you out, and you turn her down?"

"I'm not ready," Steve admits. "Maybe I'm not the kind of guy that should be getting asked out. Maybe I'm just not meant to _go out_ with anyone."

Sam laughs. "You're _the_ guy women want to ask out, man—or want to get asked out by, I guess. Women say they don't want old school—and yeah, the misogynist part is what they don't like. But they still want to be treated like a lady by a gentleman who'll protect them, but also respect that they don't _need _to be protected, and that's you."

Steve looks at Bucky.

"If he meant what I _think_ he meant then yeah, the guy's got a pretty damn good point."

As usual, Steve barely understands either of them.

Bucky claps a hand against Steve's shoulder. "The problem isn't that women aren't interested in you," he explains. "It's that they know _your_ interest is elsewhere. Women can tell these things. Actually, at this point, everyone in New York can tell."

Steve glances away, and, as if to make their point even clearer, his eyes almost immediately fall on Natasha. He feels like he should be at least a little surprised, but he's not. He watches as she's crossing the street with Maria towards their office building, head tipped back a little as the two of them are laughing about something. He's seen her laugh, of course, but it feels different watching her laugh with Maria. It shouldn't, because, while they don't act terribly affectionate with each other around the office, everyone knows that they're best friends. He's never actually _seen_ them together outside of work, and it makes him wonder what Natasha's really like when she's not obligated to spend time with him.

(It wouldn't be the first time he's thought this.)

... ...

Natasha's in his chair when he comes back from his afternoon meeting, her eyes closed and her hands folded over her stomach, her curls pushed over one shoulder. He can't tell if she looks more tired or relaxed like this, but then her eyelids fluttered open as she mumbles, "Took you long enough," and yeah, she's obviously tired. He chuckles, walks over to sit on the corner where she usually sits herself, and she shifts so that she can stretch her legs, propping her heels in his lap, one ankle crossed over the other. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," she replies. "I just needed a breather. It's as if every scheduled meeting of yours for the next two months needed to be moved, so I had work the times out with your existing commitments that."

"I'm sorry," he tells her, meaning it.

"Well, it's not like you made them reschedule. Besides, it's sort of my _job_, so I really shouldn't be complaining."

And he knows she's teasing him again, but at the same time, her words are a little unsettling. He thinks about seeing her with Maria, thinks about the fact that she has entire part of her life that he's not part of and that she knows so much more about him than he does about her. It shouldn't bother him as much as it does, because she's right. It _is_ her job.

He just isn't sure if she'd still be interested in his personal life if she didn't have to be.

"Hey," she says, grabbing his attention, and it's cute, the face she makes at him. "Why didn't you tell me Sharon asked you out?"

"Oh." He glances away, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. "It wasn't even anything big. It just happened while she was up here installing the new routers."

"That wasn't an answer to my question."

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," he says, and… okay, maybe he's lying, just a little bit. She gives him a look and he chuckles, setting his hand over her ankle, and maybe he's just imagining it, but he swears he sees her tense ever so slightly. "Of course it is, because I'm your boss."

Natasha laughs a little. "No, it's a big deal because it's you, Steve." She presses her lips together and then smiles. "You're kind of my favorite person."

"Yeah?" he asks.

She meets his eyes. "I'm not saying it again."

He chuckles, smoothing his thumb over the bone of her ankle. "You're my favorite, too, Natasha," he says, and the smile she gets?

That's also his favorite.


	9. drabble 9

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Prompts:** interview + photo (links on AO3 version)

... ...

They'd talked about getting a dog only once before, when James was three and asked for one just because there'd been a dog on the page of his coloring book.

He'd forgotten all about it almost as quickly as he'd mentioned it, but she and Steve did come back to that for a bit after James had gone down for a nap. It didn't surprise her at all that Steve thought it was a perfect idea, and yeah, she gets that it'd help teach James responsibility and everything, so they were going to wait until he was actually old enough to, you know, understand what that meant and could participate in taking care of one. Plus, she wasn't so sure about having a puppy around Tatiana, who'd barely been one at the time.

_She'd_ been under the impression they'd wait until James was in middle school, at least.

Then they found Ginger.

And they quite literally_ found_ her, too, or at least Steve did, because it was early December and snowing, and he and James had just gone outside to start shoveling the driveway. Well, Steve was going to shovel the driveway, but James was eight and wanted to help his dad out as much as possible, so he was out there, too, and they told her they'd started hearing this whimpering sound. Ginger had been hiding out underneath a car parked at the curb right in front of their house, freaked out by the people moving around her but too terrified to actually budge. Somehow Steve had coaxed her out of her hiding place, and Natasha knew as soon as she saw James carefully wrap the little puppy inside his old baby blanket that, if they couldn't find the owner, this little girl would be here to stay. _Maybe_ she could've resisted James if she'd tried, but trying to say no to James, Tatiana, _and_ Steve?

That was just physically impossible for her. It still is, honestly.

But, anyway, they took Ginger to get checked and did what they could to try and find the owner – which James was really into because, he'd told her, as much as he wanted to keep the dog, he'd want it with its real family more if it had one. To hell if you think that didn't make her tear up.

After a month of no response, they'd found themselves filling out the necessary paperwork to formally adopt the pup, which Steve names Ginger.

Maybe it's stupid, but sometimes it's hard to remember their family _without_ her.

She and the kids spend hours _literally_ running after each other, nearly giving Natasha heart attacks when they're jumping around and bumping into things but not actually knocking anything over. They've never actually broken anything, and they're pretty damn graceful, especially for kids, and avoid disasters pretty easily, but still. It's kind of really awesome to hear their laughter and Ginger's little barks echoing through the house, and it's also pretty easy to get them to go down for their naps because of all the energy they burn off, so that's a bonus. She and Steve take Ginger with them for their runs while the kids are in school, and Ginger likes to just curl up with them when Steve's sketching or she's reading.

Anyway, Steve was picking the kids from their play date (well, they're too old to call them _play dates_, but whatever) at Tony and Pepper's, so she took Ginger to the park, sipped on a pumpkin spice latte and played fetch with her for a while and then headed back when she knew they'd be home.

"Hey," Steve greets her as they're walking through the front door, kissing her cheek. There's something about his expression that's a little off.

"What?" she asks.

He gets this grin on his face. "Don't get mad."

She raises her eyebrows, but Steve just takes her hand and leads them towards the kitchen, Ginger sniffing the air as she follows behind them. And really, Natasha isn't sure what she's expecting, but somehow, part of her isn't all that surprised when she sees James and Tatiana sitting at the kitchen table, Tatiana cradling a little kitten in her hands.

"Mom, look who we found," James says, voice somehow excited but also even, obviously not trying to startle the poor thing, which is shaking a little.

Natasha glances at Steve, who still hasn't stopped grinning, and _gosh_, she already knows where this is heading.

"We rescued her, Mommy," Tatiana announces proudly.

Ginger walks over to James's chair, hopping up and onto his lap when he motions for her to, and Ginger's eyes are totally trained on the kitten, but Natasha's not really worried that she'll try to lunge at the thing. Ginger's still young and not fully trained, but she just wouldn't do that.

"You should've seen how scared she looked, Mom," James tells her. "We found her in this box of empty jelly jars on the side of the road."

Tatiana's eyes light up. "We can call her Jelly!"

James smiles widely, and okay, Natasha's heart totally swells a little at that. "That's so cute," Steve murmurs into her ear, and well, yes that is, but…

"We can't just keep her, you know that, right, sweetie?" Natasha reminds gently, because, _hell_, it's like déjà vu, watching Tatiana cradling the little kitten close to her chest the same way James had held Ginger that night they'd found her. "We have to see if she has owners first, because I'll bet they miss her a lot."

"But we're not going to let anything happen to her, right, Mommy?"

"No, of course not," Natasha says, combing her fingers through Tatiana's hair. "And I can count on you and James to take extra special care of her, right?"

"Definitely, Mom," James answers, and Tatiana bobs her head in agreement, beaming at her brother.

And, other than for dinner, Tatiana literally doesn't let go of the thing for the entire night, even as she dozes off for a few seconds more and more frequently towards the end of _Bolt_ (James's pick for their Saturday Movie Night, and strangely fitting to their situation right now – which is probably exactly why he picked it, the sneaky little guy). Once the credits start rolling, Steve gently takes the kitten from Tatiana – who begins to protest, but it just too tired to – and Natasha goes upstairs to help the kids get ready for bed. And really, Natasha should've known better than to steal glances at Tatiana cuddling with the kitten during the movie, because the girl looked _so happy_ just holding her and would keep glancing down during the movie as if watching for the kitten's reaction. It was adorable, and she knows it'll be _heartbreaking_ if, this time, they actually are able to get her back to her original owners.

Even if they were to get Tatiana a different cat now, she'd still think about this one.

(Is she a horrible person for hoping they don't find any owners?)

They're both out as soon as their heads hit their pillows, practically, and Natasha kisses their cheeks and leaves their doors open a little before heading back downstairs. Steve's already shut off the TV and folded all of the blankets except for the one draped over the couch.

Ginger and the kitten are fast asleep, curled up next to each other with Ginger's little paw over the kitten, and _fuck_, that's really cute.

Steve smiles at her, walks over and slants his lips over hers, kissing her gently. "Am I in trouble?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, and he chuckles because he knows she's teasing. "Seriously, though, even if we don't end up adopting this kitten because we find her owners, this needs to stop or else we'll end up with a _farm _or something." Steve smiles a little wider, and hell, he probably loves that idea. "Just… no more bringing home strays, alright?"

"I make no promises."


	10. drabble 10

**Drabble:** Thor/Sif + Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,400  
**Prompts:** gif (see on AO3 version)

**A/N: **I apologize for my poor attempt at writing angst rather than avoiding it.

... ...

She's heard of Lady Sif, of course. Not just from Thor, but from Coulson and Barton and even May.

Still, Natasha can't really connect the Lady Sif of those stories to the one standing just a few feet away from her right now. For all of the talk, all of the praise, Natasha always pictured her to be a vibrant woman, full of life and a little (okay, more than just a _little_) bit of danger. Right now, though, Sif seems distant and detached. Actually, Natasha's fairly certain that's exactly what she's going for. When she and the Warriors Three (as Natasha's been told they're called) arrived in New York, Sif had given Thor a short nod and walked right passed him. And Natasha knows that, while Thor's definitely been feeling more and more homesick recently, she's never seen the guy look so _sad_. There really isn't a better word to describe it.

"They should just talk."

Natasha raises her eyebrows. "Steve," she says, and he chuckles.

"What? Sometimes things can really be that simple." He combs his fingers through her hair, bringing her a little closer as he presses his lips to her temple. He likes doing that, just randomly kissing her because he feels like it, or thinks it seems like the right moment.

She kind of loves it.

"Sometimes that's all it takes with you," he points out, and she laughs but doesn't argue. That _is_ true, but she thinks it's mostly because Steve has a way with words. And it's always surprising, how the emotions just hit you, whether he's made some witty remark or a comment that makes you unravel, makes you question things.

That's why it's so impossible for her to stay mad at him. That's barely an exaggeration, too. She's tried _pretty damn hard_.

"The hard part is actually _getting_ them to talk. We already know they want to."

"We do?" Steve asks, but she knows that's not really a question. He sees it just as clearly as her.

Natasha can't say for certain what the girl's like considering they've never met before tonight, but she definitely knows that Lady Sif? She's not the kind of person that would let people talk her into doing something that she genuinely doesn't want to do. No, she probably _wasn't_ interested in attending this small party Tony's throwing for Thor – to spend time with his friends again since he misses them and he's homesick, just too stubborn to admit it – but Sif knew that this would be one of the few ways she'd definitely see Thor again.

Obviously she wants something to happen.

Natasha stands when she sees Sif stepping out onto the terrace, grabs a bottle of vodka off of the coffee table and says, "I'm going to try throwing alcohol at the problem," to Steve with a wink. Steve just chuckles. "Give us a minute and then have the Big Guy come find us."

Steve gives her a two-fingered salute and she ruffles his hair as she steps around him, just because she feels like it.

Sif has her arms resting against the railing as her eyes take in the skyline. There's a bit of a breeze, but the chill is a nice change from the warmth of the penthouse.

"Rest easy, Natasha," Sif says, still gazing over the city. "I did not come out here to seek my escape."

"Well, I did," Natasha replies, making Sif turn to look at her. "JARVIS is queueing up the karaoke selection and Tony is _god awful_ at singing."

Sif exhales a laugh.

Natasha extends the bottle of vodka and Sif stares at it, hesitating for a moment before offering her empty cup. Natasha pours a generous amount into hers and then a little into her own, and they toast to nothing in particular before downing all of it in one gulp.

They get through three more swigs each before Sif cracks a bit of a smirk. "If I did not know better, I would say you are attempting to get me drunk."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Is that an easy thing to do?"

"For most women, it could be, perhaps," Sif considers, leaning back against the railing. "I dine alongside royals with access to the finest breweries and warriors who celebrate every battle excessively, so I am sure that my tolerance is something not to be found on most others. However," she shrugs one shoulder. "We are shown to have more similarities than differences in our physiologies in comparison to mortals. A rather surprising fact when you consider that mortal lives expire far quicker than our own, but the truth of it still remains."

Natasha nods, looking back into the penthouse. "Makes me wonder what the Big Guy will do when we're all gone," she admits.

"He will return home, welcomed with cheers and open arms, as always," Sif replies, voice bitter.

"You think he'll deserve it?"

"I have no opinion concerning Thor anymore."

Natasha tilts her head. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

Sif blinks, holding Natasha's gaze. "No, I suppose I do not," she admits, turning to look out over the skyline again. "Most days, he does not even cross my mind, but when he does…" She lets out a breath, shaking her head. "I loathe the fact that such a weakness cannot leave me be."

"You consider me a weakness?"

Sif and Natasha turn to find Thor standing on the terrace, eyes narrowed, but rather than looking angry, he looks _hurt_.

Sif stands up straighter, chin raised, but Natasha can tell that she doesn't feel nearly as pissed as she probably wants to be. "I consider anything which grants me more pain than pleasure to be a weakness, yes," she replies, though the coldness of her reply doesn't touch her eyes. "But do not fear, _Thor_." He actually flinches, that's how sharply she says his name, and the fact that it's the first time she's said it all night must only make it worse for right now. "I am not attempting to tarnish your reputation in front of your new friend."

"I do not care for my reputation," he says, stepping closer, and Steve meets Natasha's eyes from where he's standing in the terrace doorway. "I am much more concerned about what has come between us."

"There is no longer any _us_ for something to come between! _You_ made sure of that when you chose to return here," she snaps, shoving her cup against his chest as she attempts to walk around him, though he grabs onto her arm and she turns to look sharply at him over her shoulder. "Release me, Thor," she says slowly.

"You are capable of escape if you wished it," he challenges. She narrows her eyes but doesn't move. "Just because I have left does not mean I do not value your care."

"You have already _lost_ the privilege of my care."

It's honestly hard for Natasha to tell which of them seems hurt more by this.

"You do not mean that," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

She lets out an empty laugh, and Natasha's sure that, had she been any other person, she would've crumpled into tears by now. Instead, Sif just shakes her head a little, another breeze passing through as she meets his eyes. "I wish to. Yet that does not seem to be enough, does it?" Thor loosens his grip, hand falling to his side, and she glances over him. "What is it about you that makes me still care?" she asks softly, more to herself than anything else. "Truthfully, I wished seeing you again would be enough for me to let go, but…"

Steve walks over to Natasha, sliding a hand over the small of her back, and they share a smile. Neither Sif nor Thor pays them any attention, though.

"You have not let go, then?" Thor asks. Slowly, she shakes her head, and the look he gets in his eyes is the most _alive_ Natasha's seen him in a long time. "Then I shall rightfully earn your care again, Sif, by any means necessary. If you will allow me to, I shall work for it. I will no longer be your weakness, but instead your strength, I swear to you."

Thor takes her hand, squeezing gently, and Steve kisses Natasha's hair as Sif says, "That is a start."


	11. drabble 11

**Drabble:** Steve/Natasha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,200  
**Prompts:** Imagine person A of your OTP wearing nothing but a shirt or jacket of person B's, which is baggy or oversized on them. Person B comes home to see Person A curled up on the couch asleep like this, and finds it absolutely adorable.

... ...

She's not a big cleaner.

She will when she needs to, obviously, but that's only ever after she's been reminded two or three times. It's not like she leaves garbage around or lets her dirty plates pile in the kitchen sink or anything, because that's _gross_. It's not her first instinct to dust and vacuum and wipe things down as regularly as she should, either. But considering she's only ever lived with Maria and then Steve, who're both neat freaks, it's never been a problem. And when she'd lived alone before, she wasn't at her place enough for it to get dirty, just dusty.

It's different, though – Maria's clean versus Steve's clean. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's what Natasha's noticed about them.

When she'd roomed with Maria, they cleaned almost daily, because Maria prefers being organized. With Steve, chores are calming, comfortable. They take the time every week or so that their days off align to clean the apartment thoroughly and do the laundry and all that. It's actually nice.

(If anyone could get her to find cleaning relaxing, of course it'd be Steve.)

This day was supposed to be last week, except Tony had called them in at the last minute for two separate assignments, and obviously the chores had to wait.

It isn't until she's dropping her duffle onto the floor of their bedroom that she realizes this means she doesn't have any clean clothes to come home to. Well, she _does_, but nothing comfortable that she can sleep in, and it's already a quarter to one. She just wants to wash the humidity of Mumbai off and nap until Steve comes home, not do laundry.

"Shall I wake Miss Hill or Miss Potts and ask them if you can borrow a change of clothes for the night, ma'am?"

"Nah, don't bother them," Natasha reassures JARVIS, turning the water on and adjusting the temperature settings. "I'll just borrow Steve's shirt. He's got a few clean ones left."

"You'll borrow his undergarments, too, then?"

She grins. "I'll go without them for a night. I'm thinking Steve won't mind it all that much, right?"

"Indeed, he probably won't." That makes her laugh. "Have a good night, Natasha."

She grins a little wider but doesn't answer, knowing that JARVIS has probably already left the apartment so that she could take her bath in private. It's kind of ridiculous to know that an A.I. has more manners than most people nowadays.

She steps into the shower and closes her eyes, letting the warm water ease away the dull ache in her muscles that she always gets after an assignment. At least she didn't come home with any bruises or bullet wounds this time. Steve will be happy about that. Considering what they've lived through, missions like these are pretty small and simple. It doesn't mean that makes them _easy_, but they're definitely a few steps down from the threats of extra-terrestrial takeover and underground terrorists attempting world domination. Not that this makes her injuries are any less alarming to Steve, but she doesn't mind when he fusses. He hates seeing _anyone_ hurt, so of course he's going to freak out whenever it's her.

When she's finished (which, okay, took a little longer than it should've, but she didn't want to turn off the hot water) she wrings her hair out and clips it up, pats herself dry with a towel and picks her clothes off of the floor as she leaves the bathroom. And yes, she's not wearing anything, but whatever. No one can see her.

She grabs one of the few shirts left in Steve's drawer – an R2D2 one Sam gifted to him for his birthday, because he and Steve had just re-watched all six Star Wars movies the week before. It's kind of ridiculously large on her, because she's smaller than him in height to begin with, and of course he's got those broad shoulders and all that muscle.

Not that she's got any complaints.

It's 1:30 when she sits on the couch. She and Steve don't always wait up for each other, but his flight lands in an hour, so it's not that big of a deal. Besides, she's not that tired.

At least, she _thought _she wasn't, but then she falls asleep after a few reruns of _Friends_ and wakes up just before the elevator chimes open.

She yawns a little and feels like she needs a stretch, but she's comfortable just being curled up Steve's shirt like this, so she just props herself up on her elbow and watches as Steve rounds the corner into the living room. He gets this soft smile on his face as soon as he sees her.

"Did I wake you?" He pulls the strap of his duffle over his head and drops it onto the floor.

She shakes her head. "I was up just as you were getting home."

"That sounds like I woke you up." She chuckles, closing her eyes, then opening them again as moves to kneel in front of her. "You look adorable, by the way."

"Shut up," she laughs.

He chuckles, too, but still means it when he says, "You do. And why do my clothes always look better on you than on me?"

"Maybe that just means you should stop wearing them altogether." He laughs softly. (She's not entirely kidding.) "Come here," she says, grasping onto his jacket, and he leans forward and presses their lips together.

It's a little deeper and a little dirtier than she'd been anticipating, though. Not that she minds – at all – but it takes her a bit by surprise, even though it honestly shouldn't. They can hardly behave themselves in front of their friends when they spend each day together, much less when they're alone in their apartment and haven't seen each other in a week.

"_Steve_," she breathes, but the thought is lost as he combs his fingers through her hair and kisses her harder.

"Missed you," he murmurs against her lips.

Yeah, she can tell.

She shifts to sit more upright, bringing him closer, their chests pressed together as he sets a hand on her thigh and squeezes gently, this soft noise coming from the back of her throat. He presses her back into the couch, moving his hips between her knees as his slides up her leg, dipping below her (his) shirt. He groans as his fingers skim over her skin and he realizes that she isn't wearing anything else underneath. He probably isn't surprised. This is hardly the first time she's worn one of his shirts before, and even the few times she's worn a bra and panties underneath, it wasn't for long once Steve saw her. She wouldn't call it a fetish, really, but he gets particularly eager whenever she's wearing something of his.

He pushes the hem of her shirt up, moving to tug it off over her head, but she pulls away and shakes her head. He pauses, giving her a slightly confused but mostly curious look, and she wraps her legs around waist and pulls him closer, leaning to whisper into his ear.

"Fuck me with it on."

He makes his noise and she bites her lower lip, smiling at him as she grasps the buckle of his belt.

"Now I'm never going to be able to wear this without thinking of you like this," he tells her, tugging at the shirt as he kisses down the column of her throat.

She lets out a laugh. That's exactly what she's going for.


End file.
